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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23159416">teach the wicked well</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero'>ShowMeAHero</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Priests, Catholicism, Explicit Sexual Content, Getting Together, Jewish Richie Tozier, Lies Getting Exposed, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Priest Kink, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery &amp; Symbolism, Sexual Tension, vaguely historical setting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:02:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,033</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23159416</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The concept of clerical celibacy is not unknown to Eddie. In fact, he’s been doing quite a lot of thinking about it in the last couple of months since Richie showed up and ruined his entire life. He’s supposed to have an undivided heart. That’s what his mother always told him: enter the priesthood, never marry, keep an undivided heart devoted to your mother and to God. When Eddie had asked, <i>wasn't that divided?,</i> she had told him he misunderstood.</p><p>For God, Eddie’s remained celibate for thirty-odd years.</p><p>For himself, he’s not going to remain celibate much longer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>301</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>teach the wicked well</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/adaptation/gifts">omniocularz (adaptation)</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For <a href="https://twitter.com/omniocularz">omniocularz</a>!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The concept of clerical celibacy is not unknown to Eddie. In fact, he’s been doing quite a lot of thinking about it in the last couple of months since Richie showed up and ruined his entire life. The Kingdom of Heaven is meant to receive him as a perfect and pure specimen when he reaches death; that’s part of the bargain with becoming a priest. Remaining unmarried had never been too much of a problem for Eddie. Women don’t interest him, and nothing else is legal. The Church had been all that was left, really.</p><p>He’s supposed to have an undivided heart. That’s what his mother always told him: enter the priesthood, never marry, keep an undivided heart devoted to your mother and to God. When Eddie had asked, <em> wasn't that divided?, </em>she had told him he misunderstood.</p><p>For God, Eddie’s remained celibate for thirty-odd years.</p><p>For himself, he’s not going to remain celibate much longer.</p><p>The thing about Richie is, he’s— he’s <em> different. </em> Eddie was never <em> too </em> deeply into Catholicism before the priesthood. He’s a fast reader and a quick learner, though, and it had all made sense. Explanations always help; Eddie likes having things explained. He likes knowing things, like what comes next, and what the consequences are, and what all possible outcomes of his decisions could be. He’s not much of a risk-taker, and the priesthood isn’t much of a risk.</p><p>Richie, on the other hand, is <em> all </em> risk— and, so far, little reward, because Eddie doesn’t know what they’re <em> doing, </em>exactly. Richie’s been living with Eddie and the other priests in San Marcos for the past four months, and he’s come a long way, in such a short time. He’d shown up nervous, and he kept forgetting things, but Eddie had helped him. He’s helpful, so sue him, and he wants friends. All the other priests are older than him by at least fifteen years, at the youngest, and Richie’s only a few months older than him. The opportunity seemed right.</p><p>Richie’s really <em> not </em> good at the whole priest thing, but Eddie lets it slide, because he <em> is </em> good at the friend thing. He covers for Richie a <em> lot. </em>In return, Richie brings Eddie books he thinks he’d like, movies he hasn’t seen. He flirts with Eddie like they’re allowed to do anything about it and makes comments that insinuate he wouldn’t mind breaking rules about clerical celibacy, if it came to that.</p><p>Eddie does his research. He knows they could be punished with laicization or even excommunication if they’re found out while they’re alive, and that’s nothing to say what happens <em> after </em>they die, when they go to Hell for sex before marriage and homosexual sex and—</p><p>And so, Eddie reads the Bible front to back, over and over. He reads each of the sacred texts they keep in their libraries. He takes notes, and sometimes Richie joins him, even though Eddie won’t explain what he’s doing or why. Sometimes Richie will even make notes on <em> Eddie’s </em>notes, explaining things or answering questions. It makes Eddie’s chest ache.</p><p>When Eddie comes to the conclusion that not only would the God he believes in not send him to Hell for this, but the entire mess of what he onced called his life, most people call Catholicism, and Eddie’s starting to call a mistake— it’s not worth it. It’s not worth not being happy in life if he won’t be happy in death anyways. There’s no Heaven for him if there was no love in life, because who will be waiting there? His mother? The father he never knew? He’s not interested in it, in the long run.</p><p>And so he flirts back. Nothing serious, at first; he starts by just responding in kind to Richie’s flirtatious little comments, the jokes he makes at the expense of Eddie’s appearance. Richie’s face goes red, the first few times he does it, but then he rolls with it, too. The two of them go from antagonizing each other to bantering with each other in days, after that. Eddie thought it might help, but it doesn’t; it brings an underlying tension with it.</p><p>The tension only gets thicker with each passing day, each passing <em> moment, </em> because it seems like they’re never apart, now. They’ve been together for five months, but Eddie still feels like they’ve never even properly touched. Not the way he wants to touch, certainly, and not the way he needs to <em> be </em>touched.</p><p>He knows Richie’s longing for it, too. He <em> knows </em> it, because it always seems like Richie is half a beat away from taking Eddie into his arms and kissing the breath out of him at any given moment. Richie refrains, Eddie thinks, not for his own sake, but for Eddie’s. He doesn’t know the crisis inside of Eddie or the decision he’s made, because— Well, how the fuck <em> could he? </em>Eddie’s been silent on anything even remotely related to the subject.</p><p>Until now, that is. Because they’re running out of time.</p><p>Eddie finds Richie during his shift in the confessional. He knows nobody’s in the church right now, and he knows the others aren’t around to hear them or find them. He sits on his side of the stall and waits for Richie to start talking.</p><p>“Hi there,” Richie says. Eddie huffs a laugh. “Oh, hey, Eds.”</p><p>“You’re supposed to be anonymous,” Eddie tells him.</p><p>“Where’s the fun in that?” Richie says. “You’re supposed to build a rapport with your therapist, big guy.”</p><p>“We’re not therapists,” Eddie reminds him.</p><p>“We sort of are,” Richie says. “Like how bartenders are therapists, too. We’re all doing the same job, just. Different qualifications.”</p><p>“I think you’d be more qualified to be a bartender than a priest,” Eddie says. Richie laughs, even though he should be insulted. Not much ever bothers Richie.</p><p>“That’s probably true,” Richie tells him. “And <em> I </em> think <em> you’d </em>be more qualified to be a therapist than a priest.”</p><p>“Fair,” Eddie responds. They’re both quiet for a moment.</p><p>“What have you come to confess?” Richie asks, after a short while. Eddie sighs, then drops his face down into his hands, rubbing at his eyes. “Eds?”</p><p>“Yeah, just— Gimme a second,” Eddie tells him sharply. He can almost <em> hear </em>Richie nodding, can hear his long hair, probably tied back right now, brushing against his collar when he moves his head. “Please, forgive me. I intend to sin.”</p><p>“You… intend to sin,” Richie says. “If you haven’t acted yet, then you still have a chance. You don’t need to sin.”</p><p>Eddie huffs a dry laugh. “Oh, no, I need to sin. I’m <em> going </em>to do it.”</p><p>Richie’s quiet for another moment before he asks, “You ever heard the old saying, <em> better to ask forgiveness than permission? </em>Because I think you’d do well to hear it.”</p><p>“You’re hilarious,” Eddie tells him. “I’m serious. I’m going to do this. I want your forgiveness first.”</p><p>“Mine or G—”</p><p>“Yours,” Eddie cuts him off. “I want yours.”</p><p>They’re both silent again. Eddie thinks he hears Richie swallow; he definitely hears his breathing speed up for a moment before he audibly gets it under control, taking deep breaths in and out.</p><p>“What is the sin?” Richie asks. “So I know what I’m forgiving.”</p><p>“I intend to commit a capital sin,” Eddie tells him, and Richie inhales sharply. “A deadly sin. I think I might end up going to Hell, Richie.”</p><p>“Eds, fucking—” Richie stops himself, catches his breath again, then says, “Which one?”</p><p>“Of the deadly sins?” Eddie asks. “Lust.”</p><p>Richie makes another soft sound. Eddie’s heart is <em> racing, </em>pounding through his veins, blood hot and seething. “Lust is the least of the cardinal sins. What has driven you to—”</p><p><em> “You,” </em> Eddie says, unable to stop from boiling over any longer. <em> “You </em> have driven me to seek fornication and commit a lustful sin, Richie. <em> You.” </em></p><p>They’re both quiet again, for a long minute, then two. Then, Eddie hears Richie’s door open, and there’s a tentative knock on his. He slides the door open and is met with Richie, abruptly, climbing into his lap and tugging the door closed roughly behind himself. Eddie shoves him backwards, flipping their positions; in a heartbeat, he’s straddling Richie’s lap, tugging his clerical collar free and dropping it aside. He pushes aside thick black fabric to kiss into Richie’s throat, making his way hungrily up to his lips, where Richie meets him in a hard kiss.</p><p>There is nothing humorous or hesitant about the way Richie kisses him. He’s not joking anymore, and he’s more than definitely not just flirting, because Eddie can feel the hard line of his cock between them, through layers and layers. Eddie can’t help but drop himself down over his dick, grinding down until Richie gasps and catches Eddie’s face in his hands.</p><p>“Fuck,” Richie murmurs. Eddie surges back up, rising to his knees on the bench, on top of Richie, gripping him by the shoulders to kiss him again. If he’d known that kissing would be like this, he would’ve done it <em> years </em> ago, with someone other than his high school girlfriend. He’d kissed her a total of four times, and hated it more each time. Now, kissing Richie — he knows that, if he’d kissed a boy like him before he’d entered the priesthood, he never would’ve done it. He couldn’t have done it. Not knowing what he knows <em> now. </em></p><p>“I’m so sorry,” Eddie tells him, before tugging Richie hard into a searing-hot kiss. He can’t keep his hands off of Richie, unbuttoning the back of his collar and starting to undo it as far down as he can reach before he gives up. He stands and tugs Richie’s robes down, then tears his t-shirt off over his head before he’s kissing the line of his throat, too.</p><p>“What the fuck are you sorry for?” Richie asks, now that his mouth is free again. Eddie bites into his skin, just to see what will happen, and Richie <em> moans. </em></p><p>“Sinning,” Eddie confesses. Richie groans as Eddie lifts his head to kiss him again before he adds, “Making <em> you </em>sin with me.”</p><p>“You’re not <em> making </em>me do anything,” Richie tells him. “There’s nothing wrong with this, Eds. I promise, there’s nothing wrong with wanting this or doing this, and we can do it all you want, we can—”</p><p>They both hear a door bang, distantly, and they jerk apart. For a brief moment, they just stare at each other. Then, Eddie snatches up Richie’s shirt and shoves it at him, hissing, <em> “Get dressed,” </em>before he smooths his own hair back and squares his shoulders. He feels Richie’s hand glide down his back, just for a moment. Then, Eddie steps out of the confessional and beelines for the door.</p><p>They don’t talk about it. There aren’t really very many safe places <em> to </em> talk about it, and, by the next time they’re alone, it feels like they’re under mutual agreement to just… not put any of this into words. To not label this, or put a name to it, but to just— just <em> do it. </em></p><p>Richie doesn’t bring it up, so Eddie doesn’t, either.</p><p>For the entire next <em> week, </em> all Eddie feels is guilt. Guilt for disappointing his mother and his mentors, guilt for sinning <em> in a house of God, </em>guilt for ruining Richie the same way he’s already ruined himself.</p><p>When he tries to express that to Richie, Richie just shushes him. He shuts Eddie’s office door and locks it before pinning him to his desk chair and kissing him until he couldn’t stand up again if he wanted to. Eddie just wants to keep tugging at him, to keep pulling at Richie with his fiery, ashy hands, to keep hauling him into sin with him, but he knows he can’t, that he shouldn’t. He’s not allowed to do it, but Richie’s never cared what he is or isn’t allowed to do. He just <em> does. </em></p><p>Richie visits him late at night, sometimes. He kisses him hard and lets Eddie grind down on his lap until he comes just from that, an explosion of heat between them. He waits until the offices next to Eddie’s are empty and then gets on his knees next to him at his desk, sucking him off even through the phone ringing and Eddie having to hold an entire coherent conversation with the deacon. He drags Eddie into the confessionals again and again, kissing him hard and rolling his hips up into Eddie’s thighs and digging his fingertips into his hips, clinging to him, craving him just as badly as Eddie’s craving Richie in return.</p><p>They have a signal. Richie came up with it; he taps his temple twice, then pushes his glasses up with a finger at the bridge of his nose. He still pushes his glasses up like a little boy would, rather than adjusting them by the legs or the frames. Eddie’s heart surges every time he sees Richie do it. He’s not sure if it’s a Pavlovian response to sex or to Richie.</p><p>The worst part isn’t even how attached Eddie is growing to having sex with Richie. The worst part is how attached Eddie is getting to <em> Richie, </em>how badly he just wants to feel Richie inside of him and to— to—</p><p>The thing is, Eddie doesn’t <em> know. </em> He doesn’t know what their options are. He doesn’t know what’s available to them. They can’t get married, but they can live together, in theory; they’d have to leave the Church. They’d be excommunicated without a doubt if anyone found out <em> why </em>they were leaving the Church, so they either can’t tell anybody and keep it secret, or they can tell everybody and leave the only thing Eddie has ever known.</p><p>Eddie spends a lot of long, dark, <em> lonely </em>nights thinking about what he wants to do. He’s not really a risk-taker. Leaving the Church with Richie is the biggest risk he can think to take.</p><p>It’s also the only thing he can think of that’ll change his life, and he’s decided he <em> needs </em> to change his life. He can feel it in the pit of his stomach, in the deepest parts of his lungs. He <em> needs </em> to change, and he’s not even sure <em> why. </em></p><p>Well.</p><p>At first, he’s not sure why.</p><p>Then, he’s delivering their Sunday sermon, reciting Psalm 51. Richie always sits in the same spot; when they’re listening together, Eddie sits right beside him. When it’s Richie up here, doing the stand-up routine that he calls a sermon, Eddie sits exactly where Richie is right now. They always know where to find each other. Even if Richie sat somewhere else, though— Even if he chose a different seat completely at random— Eddie thinks he’d be able to find him. He’d know where he was instinctively, like a magnet. He <em> knows </em>Richie.</p><p>“Have mercy on me, O God,” Eddie says, and makes eye contact with Richie as he does so. He can’t help but smile slightly as he continues, “In your faithful love, in your great tenderness, wipe away my offenses. Wash me clean from my guilt, purify me from my sin.”</p><p><em> “It’s not a sin,” </em>Richie mouths. Eddie can read his lips, and he can see, too, the warmest smile he’s ever gotten from Richie, in the next moment. He’s softened more than Eddie’s ever seen him, looking so content and shining from the inside out. Something in Eddie’s heart clicks into place, then settles.</p><p>“For I am well aware of my offences,” Eddie keeps going. “My sin is constantly in mind.”</p><p>And it is. He’s constantly thinking about Richie, about sinning <em> with </em> Richie, getting his hands on him and making him sin in return. In a breathless moment, Eddie realizes he’s fallen in love with Richie. It’s not a sin, and it’s not lust— Well, it’s not <em> just </em> lust, not anymore. Now, it’s everything, because <em> Richie </em> is everything, and Eddie decides he has to tell him. He <em> has </em>to.</p><p>As he’s coming down the stairs, eyes fixed on Richie, the deacon catches him by the arm. Eddie looks to him, expecting a comment on the sermon of the day, but the look on the deacon’s face makes Eddie’s hands start to tingle before they go clammy and numb.</p><p>“What is it?” Eddie asks. The deacon looks into the crowd, and Eddie follows his eyes until his line of sight lands on Richie. Richie looks back, his eyes wide and horrified as they flick between Eddie’s face and the deacon’s. They stop on Eddie’s, keeping eye contact for a long moment.</p><p>“I need to talk to you about Richard,” the deacon says. He doesn’t call him a <em> brother, </em> or a <em> father, </em> or even <em> Mr. Tozier, </em> nothing proper like that. He just says <em> Richard, </em>and Eddie’s blood runs cold. The deacon leads him back to his own office before laying out the papers held in the folder he’s brought inside his briefcase.</p><p>“Richard is not a priest,” the deacon tells Eddie, once the door is closed and locked and Eddie is holding a stack of papers in his hand with Richie’s photograph paperclipped to the front.</p><p>“What is he?” Eddie asks. His blood is cold, his <em> limbs </em> are cold; his head <em> aches </em>as he tries to process what he’s reading on the top page, but his vision’s spinning at the same time.</p><p>“His name is not Richard Stevens, but Richard Wentworth Tozier, and he’s a bartender,” the deacon tells him, and Eddie has to huff a laugh. “Or, at least, he was, when he was twenty-two, before he was arrested for art theft and served two years in prison.”</p><p>Eddie stares down at an arrest record. Richie’s name is on it. His mugshots have been scanned and stapled to the sheet. His heart is fucking <em> pounding; </em>he feels like his head might genuinely explode, if his chest doesn’t first.</p><p>“After that he’s in and out all over the country,” the deacon tells him. “Before he shows up here.”</p><p>“What the fuck does he want from <em> us?” </em> Eddie demands. “What— What the fuck is he doing <em> here?” </em></p><p>“Watch it,” the deacon warns. “I presume he wants the statue of the Mother beside the altar.”</p><p>Eddie knows the exact piece he’s thinking of. He’d been told, when he first started, that the statue was priceless. As it turns out, that’s not true; there <em> is </em>a price, and, apparently, it’s Eddie.</p><p>“Let me talk to him,” Eddie says, feeling anger rolling under his skin as he stands. “And then I’ll call the police.”</p><p>“I’ll give you half an hour,” the deacon tells him. “Only because of how close you’ve grown.” The deacon folds his hands together, then says, “I’m sorry he’s fooled you. I hope we can all learn something from this.”</p><p>Eddie nods before standing. He’s not entirely sure <em> what </em> he’s learned, yet, but he’s <em> definitely </em> learned <em> something. </em></p><p>He fights his way through friends and strangers out mingling still by the pews almost drunkenly, his mind too much in turmoil to think straight. By the time he makes it to Richie, he clamps his hand around his wrist and pulls.</p><p>“I need to speak with you immediately,” Eddie tells him. He doesn’t care how cold and clammy his hand is, because Richie’s skin is hot and sweaty to the touch under his; he’s obviously panicking, too, but there’s not much Eddie can do about that. He’s already— too hurt, too betrayed, but he’s still too in love not to act. He still <em> has </em>to act.</p><p>Eddie tugs Richie into the confessional while nobody’s looking. Nobody else is in it, both sides empty and unoccupied. When Eddie tugs the door shut, it’s nearly claustrophobic; the stall is both too small and too large for the both of them, and Richie is both everywhere and nowhere. Eddie can barely see in the darkness, but that’s fine, because all he can see now anyways is <em> red, </em>he’s so furious.</p><p>“You fucking <em> liar,” </em>Eddie spits.</p><p>“I wanted to tell you,” Richie says, all in a rush. Eddie’s distantly glad that Richie didn’t even bother trying to lie to him again. “I wanted to tell you, Eddie, I didn’t mean to keep it from you, but by the time I— I realized what I was— What I felt for— It was too late. Eds, I— I didn’t—”</p><p>“Don’t,” Eddie cuts him off. “Don’t call me that.” He can feel tears burning in his eyes, embarrassingly enough; when they spill down his hot cheeks, he’s both incensed and humiliated, and it makes his tone sharp when he says, “I risked <em> everything </em> for you. I risked <em> everything. </em> I risked <em> Hell </em> for you, and you— You’ve been <em> lying </em>to me, you—”</p><p>“It’s not lying,” Richie tells him urgently. “I haven’t lied about anything important, Eds, I <em> swear. </em> I <em> swear </em> to you, everything I told you about my life, and growing up, and— and everything, Eddie, that was all <em> me, </em> I <em> promise—” </em></p><p>“How the <em> fuck </em> can I trust you?” Eddie hisses at him. He feels more like he had as a fourteen-year-old getting into vicious scraps on the playground than he feels like the actual thirty-four-year-old priest and model of his Church he knows he’s supposed to be. “You’ve been lying to me for <em> months, </em> Richie. <em> Months.” </em></p><p>“Okay, so, my name is Richie Tozier and I’m not exactly a priest,” Richie tells him. “But just because I'm <em>technically</em> Jewish and I didn’t go to, like— Priest school, or <em>whatever—”</em></p><p>Eddie huffs a humorless laugh, pushing his fingers through his hair and yanking for a moment before he shakes his head again. “Priest school. <em> Priest school, </em> and I fucking— I <em> helped </em> you, I— I fucking <em> vouched </em> for you, I <em> stood up </em> for you, and you—” Eddie motions broadly at him. “You’re Richie fucking <em> Tozier, </em>an art thief who’s just here to steal some stupid fucking statue.”</p><p>“No, but, Eds, I don’t care about the statue anymore, I don’t,” Richie tells him. Eddie feels like he’s telling the truth, but he’s felt that way for months while Richie lied to him. He can’t trust his own instincts anymore. His entire brain feels like it’s gone through a meat grinder.</p><p>“Sure,” Eddie says. “Sure, and you—”</p><p>“Eddie, <em> please,” </em> Richie begs him, voice still low to keep from being overheard. “Please, <em> please, </em> listen to me, I don’t care about the statue and I don’t care about staying out of jail and I don’t care about the deal I made, I only care about <em> you, </em> Eds, I <em> swear, </em>I’d give— I’d give it all up for you.”</p><p>When Eddie hears those words come out of Richie’s mouth, in a heartbeat, he <em> understands. </em>Whatever this is, this choice that Richie’s made, this choice that he’s continued to make— It’s his Church. It’s the thing he knows best, and the thing he’s trying to leave, and the thing he doesn’t want. Eddie’s last few months have been fruitful when it comes to making new decisions for himself; why couldn’t Richie’s last few months have gone the same way?</p><p>“Please,” Richie says again. Eddie’s eyes have adjusted to the darkness in the stall, now, and he can finally see Richie completely. He can see the tears streaming down his face, staining his skin. “Please, Eddie, I <em>promise. </em>I <em>promise </em>you—”</p><p>Eddie takes Richie’s face in his hands. He’s still pissed, fury still rattling through his bones, but he’s also stupid in love and optimistically hopeful and he’s not willing to give this up. He <em>wants </em>this; he’s never actually <em>wanted</em> anything, not <em>really. </em>He’s not about to give Richie up that easily.</p><p>“I’m in love with you,” Richie confesses first, around a burst of a sob. Eddie leans up onto the balls of his feet and kisses Richie hard, dragging him closer until their hips slam together and they have to tip their heads to get a good enough angle to kiss. “I don’t care about any of the rest of it anymore, Eddie, I’m in love with you. I don’t care about any of it, I don’t <em> care, </em>I just want you.”</p><p>Richie smoothes Eddie’s hair back from his face, then kisses him again. When he lifts his head, Eddie says, “Richie, I— I—” He stops, then inhales, deeply. He exhales slowly before opening his eyes again to look up at Richie.</p><p>“What?” Richie asks.</p><p>“I want…” Eddie starts to say. Richie cups his face and presses their foreheads together.</p><p>“Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you,” Richie promises in a whisper. “Anything, <em> anything </em> you want, and I’ll give it to you, Eds, I promise. I <em> swear.” </em></p><p>“I want to leave,” Eddie tells him. Richie smiles, just a bit, before he laughs breathlessly. Eddie can’t help but grin as he continues, “I want to leave here, Richie, I don’t want to stay anymore, I’m done. I’m <em> done.” </em></p><p>Richie laughs again and kisses Eddie <em> hard, </em>the grip he has on the sides of his face so tight it’s almost definitely bruising. Eddie wraps his fingers around Richie’s wrists and gives as good as he gets.</p><p>“I need my things,” Eddie tells him quietly, when they separate. Richie nods and lets Eddie drag him from the confessional as soon as the coast is visibly clear through the crack in the door.</p><p>Their rooms aren’t far away, and Richie runs to his own to gather his own belongings before helping Eddie with his. Eddie’s been here for <em> years, </em>when Richie’s only been here a few months, so he’s back with a backpack slung over his shoulder in a matter of minutes.</p><p>Richie shuts Eddie’s door softly behind himself and locks it once he’s inside. His bag hits the floor with a soft <em> whump, </em>and Eddie turns to look at him, ready to ask him for help, but Richie’s on him before he can speak. He kisses the words out of Eddie’s mouth, right out of his lungs and his brain until he’s completely forgotten what he was going to say.</p><p>With the door locked and their decision made, Eddie doesn’t mind so much when Richie pushes him into the mattress and keeps kissing him. He only minds when Richie gets off of him again, going to his bag to dig through it.</p><p>“I came here straight from work that day,” Richie tells him. Eddie knows he means the day he first showed up, the day he took over for the priest who was actually supposed to be here instead of his imposter who showed up and made Eddie’s life livable. “I think I still— Yup, here we go.” Richie holds up a little container and says, “This okay, Eds?”</p><p>Eddie’s brain takes a minute to figure out what he’s asking, but then his face is blazing with fire and his dick is more than half-hard in seconds. He nods jerkily, and Richie climbs over him again. He drops the bottle beside Eddie’s head on his bed before kissing him again, holding him tightly.</p><p>They’re both wearing a shitload of clothes, Eddie especially; when Richie pulls off again to strip his clothes off, though, and Eddie moves to follow, Richie just pushes him back down with a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t move. I’ll take ‘em off for you.”</p><p>Eddie nods, hypnotized as Richie tears his own clothes off with no care for their seams or anything at all. In fact, Eddie’s more than certain a couple of his garments rip, but Richie clearly doesn’t care, and so, neither does Eddie. It gets him naked fast, which is all Eddie really cares about; in only a minute, he’s down to his t-shirt and boxer briefs, and then he’s tearing those off, too, and climbing back over Eddie.</p><p>His amice and his stole come up and off first, then his chasuble; he has to untie his cincture before pulling his alb off, leaving Eddie in his own sleeveless undershirt and his boxer briefs. The vestments and ornaments of the priesthood fall into a messy heap on the floor, kicked aside by Richie. Eddie hopes it’s the last time he ever sees them.</p><p>Richie all but tears his undershirt and underwear off, leaving Eddie just as bare under him as Richie is over him. The way his hands feel on Eddie’s skin like this is nothing short of earth-shattering; his fingers and palms leave blazing trails of heat all over as Richie tries to find the place he wants to hold tightest on Eddie’s body.</p><p>When Richie takes the lubricant into his palm and spreads it over his fingers, Eddie feels anticipation curl tight and hot deep in his core. He opens Eddie up slowly, piece by piece, until Eddie feels like he’s falling apart around his fingers. It’s nothing, though, compared to the way he feels when Richie finally slicks <em> himself </em>up and lines the head of his cock up with Eddie’s entrance.</p><p>“You’re sure?” Richie asks. Eddie nods jerkily, pulling Richie down into a deep kiss. When Eddie tips his head, opening his mouth and licking against Richie’s tongue, he feels Richie’s cock finally slip inside him. He shivers as Richie thrusts in once, then twice, until he’s deep enough in that Eddie sees <em> stars, </em> and he doesn’t know how <em> anybody </em>could choose to live a celibate life if they knew what this feeling was truly like.</p><p>Eddie remembers belatedly that they only had a half an hour before the deacon came to see what Eddie had chosen to dole out as a punishment before calling the police. He remembers it so belatedly, in fact, that they’re already packed and in a taxi by the time he realizes, the two of them well on their way to the train station two towns over.</p><p>When Richie looks to Eddie, his lips are still swollen and his hair still disheveled. The spot on his neck where the collar bit into his skin has made a raw line on his throat.</p><p>“You still sure?” Richie asks. Eddie can see the Church shrinking in the driver’s rear view mirror for a moment before his eyes close when he kisses Richie.</p><p>“Sure I’m sure,” Eddie tells him. “I’m here, aren’t I?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You can (and should!) come chat with me on Twitter at <a href="https://twitter.com/nicolelianesolo">@nicolelianesolo</a> and/or on Tumblr at <a href="http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/">andillwriteyouatragedy</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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